A Reason to Believe

by McKade, Maureen

  “When I finally got back home with Madeline, I swore I would never be dependent on a man again. But”—she glanced away, obviously embarrassed—“but some nights I was so lonely. That’s when I’d drink whiskey. It helped me to sleep and forget.”

  Rye swallowed. “I understand, Dulcie. After Mary died, I did the same thing for the same reason. Only my drinking led to your husband’s death.”

  She smiled sadly. “Everything happens for a reason, Rye. We have to believe that.”

  As much as Rye hated losing Mary, he realized Dulcie was right. Everything that had happened in their pasts had led them here. To each other. “I’m glad I’m here.”

  “I’m glad you are, too.”

  Her face, so close to his, beckoned him. He remembered with crystal clarity how her full lips felt and tasted. Her body heat touched him, stoking the fire she already ignited within him.

  “Stay here with me tonight, Rye,” Dulcie said.

  Her husky voice left no doubt where he’d be sleeping. Although he wanted nothing more than to make love again, Rye didn’t want her to think he was like Lamont. “You don’t owe me anything.”

  She lifted her chin. “I know. I want to be with you, Rye, and not only because I love what you do to me, but because I care for you more than I’ve ever cared for a man.”

  He knew he should refuse, but gazing into her face, softly molded by the lamplight, it was impossible to walk away. Instead, he cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her gently. “I want to be with you, too, Dulcie.”

  She took his hand and led him into the bedroom.

  TWENTY-THREE

  THE following morning, Dulcie dressed herself and Madeline in their best dresses. For the first time in years, Dulcie and her daughter were attending Sunday service. She hoped God understood and didn’t judge her too harshly.

  The door opened, and Rye entered, sending Dulcie’s heart skittering in her chest. Because there were no more secrets or lies between them, their lovemaking had been even more exciting than the first time. Even though her body had reacted to Jerry and Lamont’s touches, she hadn’t felt anything beyond satisfaction with them. With Rye, there were so many more emotions entangled while they shared their bodies.

  For the first time in her life, Dulcie understood what love felt like.

  “Wagon’s ready to go,” he announced.

  Madeline ran over to him and held up her arms. Rye grinned and picked her up. “Why look at you, Miss Madeline. Quite the little lady.”

  She scowled. “I don’t know why I gotta wear shoes.”

  “Because that’s what young ladies do when they go to church.” Rye glanced at Dulcie, and she flushed at the heat in his eyes. “You look beautiful, too, Dulcie.”

  She smiled crookedly. “After wearing trousers for so long, wearing a dress will take some getting used to.”

  He put his free arm around her shoulders. “You’re doing just fine.”

  They walked to the wagon, and Rye lifted Madeline onto the seat then helped Dulcie up. Rye climbed up after them and took the mule’s reins.

  With Madeline between her and Rye, Dulcie was able to relax and enjoy the morning ride. Not that she wouldn’t have minded sitting next to Rye, but with his leg and arm against hers, she would’ve been far too distracted. This way she could think about what she planned to say.

  Last night, after she and Rye had made love for a second time, the idea had come to her. She had outlined her plan to Rye and he had agreed, even though he knew it would be difficult for her. However, knowing she had Rye’s support, she didn’t care what the God-fearing folks thought of her. Only Rye’s opinion mattered now.

  The church yard was already filled with wagons and horses since the service had started fifteen minutes earlier. Dulcie intended to arrive late, hoping for a dramatic entrance.

  Her heart hammered and her palms were sweaty beneath her gloves. Although she wanted—needed—to do this, it didn’t prevent the knot in her belly or the dryness of her throat.

  Rye lifted her down from the box and set her on her feet. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” he said in a low, worried tone.

  Dulcie took a deep breath and managed a reassuring smile. “I’ll be all right.” She squared her shoulders and led the way up the stairs with Rye and Madeline following her. She swept open the door and stepped inside.

  The minister fumbled to a stop and stared. It didn’t take long for the congregation to turn in their seats to see what had startled him. There were a few moments of shocked silence followed by the gradual rise of whispering voices.

  Dulcie ignored them, and the knocking in her knees, and marched to the front of the church. She turned and faced many of the people she’d known since she was a child—Mr. and Mrs. Coulson, the Gearsons, Dr. Wickberg and his wife, and Sheriff Lyle Martin. Then she glanced at the back of the church where Rye stood, his hat in one hand and Madeline’s hand held in the other. The feeling of rightness swelled within her, giving her strength.

  “I’m sure most of you recognize me. My name is Mrs. Dulcie McDaniel and my father was Frank Pollard.” She paused, letting the fragile silence linger and her own convictions buoy her. “He was wrongly accused of Lawrence Carpenter’s murder and lynched by many of you sitting here this morning.”

  Dulcie licked her dry lips and gazed out across the congregation. She expected to feel anger, but there was only pity and disgust. “There’s nothing the law can or will do to those of you who were involved in my father’s lynching. Instead, each and every day you will all have to live with the fact that you killed an innocent man.”

  She took a moment to clear the fullness in her throat. “I know my pa drank too much and he was a poor excuse for a father, but he was the only kin I had besides my daughter. And you took him from me.” She looked around, but most heads were lowered and faces hidden. “May God have mercy on your souls, because I’m afraid I have none to give.”

  She caught Rye’s admiring gaze, and suddenly she didn’t care about anyone else in this town. The only two people who mattered were Rye and Madeline. She noticed Collie get out of a pew and join Rye at the back of the church.

  Three people, she amended silently.

  Holding her head high, she walked down the aisle. When she reached Rye and the two children, she stopped.

  “Your father would be proud,” Rye said in a low voice.

  She shook her head sadly. “No, I don’t think so. But it doesn’t matter.” She gazed up into Rye’s tender blue eyes. “I did this for me, not him.”

  DULCIE was glad Mrs. Gearson had allowed Collie to return to the farm with them. In fact, the woman had been gracious to the extreme. However, Dulcie knew it was simply Mrs. Gearson’s guilty conscience and not affection for Collie that made her so polite.

  As Dulcie finished her pie and took a sip of coffee, she watched Rye tease both Collie and Madeline. Giggles and snorts from the children made Dulcie smile. At this moment, she was the closest she’d ever come to being completely content.

  She’d been lonely for years, since long before Jerry died. She just hadn’t realized it until Rye came into her life and showed her how decent and loving a man could be.

  The only thing that troubled her was the uncertainty of Rye’s stay. He offered to go into Locust tomorrow to find a reaper to borrow or rent. Once he did that and the wheat was cut and the corn picked, he’d have fulfilled his promise to stay until the harvest was in. Would he leave then?

  Her heart squeezed painfully. She rose to gather the pie plates and carried them to the wash pan. A few moments later Rye joined her, put his arms around her waist and pulled her back against his chest. He kissed the side of her neck, bringing a rush of heat to her belly.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She kept her gaze on her hands as she washed the dishes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You’re being too quiet.”

  She turned her head and found his mouth only inches away. Forcing aside her melancholy, she f
ocused on having him here with her now. “Maybe I just don’t have anything to say.” She interjected a note of playfulness in her tone.

  “I doubt that.”

  Despite herself, she laughed. “I’m not that bad, am I?”

  Rye’s reply was lost in the sound of an approaching wagon. Dulcie peeked through the window slats and recognized the doctor’s buggy coming down the road. “Dr. Wickberg is here.”

  Rye released her, and she untied her apron then flung it over a chair. She and Rye, followed by the children, went out to greet the doctor and his wife. Once outside, Dulcie noticed the Wickbergs weren’t the only ones who’d come calling. Three reapers following the buggy turned away from the cabin to follow the road leading to the wheat and corn fields. There were also two buckboard wagons filled with people, and more men and children on mule or horseback. Everyone living in and around Locust must have come.

  Her mouth agape, Dulcie watched the activity as the men driving the reapers started cutting the wheat. Across the way in the corn, the buckboard wagons stopped. At least two dozen people with large cloth bags slung over their head and shoulders started picking the ears from the cornstalks.

  Dr. Wickberg climbed down from the buggy. Both he and his wife wore clothes more fit for working than visiting.

  “What’s going on?” Dulcie asked the doctor.

  “I guess you could say this is our way of saying we’re sorry for what happened with your father,” Dr. Wickberg replied. Although shame-faced, he held her gaze. “I could’ve tried to stop the lynching and I didn’t. I’m sorry, Dulcie.”

  Although she’d wanted to have those involved in her father’s lynching realize they’d hanged an innocent man, she hadn’t expected anything like this.

  “Now that the real murderers confessed, you finally believe Dulcie,” Rye said, his tone caustic.

  “I suppose we deserve that.” Dr. Wickberg sighed. “After you left the church, nobody was in the mood to continue the service. Instead, we had a meeting. I know nothing will bring Frank back, but we decided to bring your crops in. With all of us pitching in, we should be able to finish today.”

  Dulcie knew she should’ve been happy getting the harvest done so quickly, but now Rye would have no reason to stay. And what reason did she have? She had no loyalty to the townsfolk of Locust, despite this gesture of apology.

  “You’re right. It won’t bring my father back, but I do appreciate the help,” she said stiffly.

  “If you’ll excuse us, we’re going to pick some corn.” Dr. Wickberg stepped back up into his buggy and started down the road.

  Suddenly Dulcie knew what she had to do. She lifted her skirt hems and ran after the buggy. “Dr. Wickberg.”

  He halted his buggy, and Dulcie stumbled to a stop beside it. She glanced back to see Rye standing back with the children and was glad he wouldn’t hear her. “There’s something else I’d like you to do, Dr. Wickberg.”

  “What is it, Dulcie?”

  “Ask around and see if anyone would be interested in buying my farm, the sooner the better.”

  Although Dr. Wickberg appeared troubled, he simply nodded. “I’ll do that, Dulcie.”

  “Thank you.”

  Dr. Wickberg slapped the reins against the horse’s rump and went to join the others. Dulcie walked back to Rye, who gave her a questioning look.

  “Does this mean we don’t have to work no more?” Collie asked.

  Relieved to have her attention stolen by the boy, she grinned. “That’s right, Collie.”

  The boy whooped in excitement.

  “Why don’t you and Madeline stay outside and play here in the shade while Rye and I finish the dishes?” she suggested.

  Collie grinned, and he and Madeline went to plop down on the thick grass to play one of their games with rocks and sticks.

  Dulcie took Rye’s hand and tugged him toward the cabin. Once inside, she closed the door and wrapped her arms around Rye and kissed him. Rye didn’t miss the opportunity to kiss her again.

  “Thank you for everything,” she said through the lump in her throat.

  Rye frowned. “This sounds like someone’s leaving.”

  She couldn’t bear to look in his face. “As soon as the corn and wheat are in, there’s no reason for you to stay.”

  Disappointment flashed through Rye’s face. “I suppose. Lamont told me of a Creede Forrester down near Robles.”

  “One of your brothers?”

  “Maybe. I have to find out.”

  “Do you think there might be some land for sale down that way?” Dulcie asked.

  Rye frowned. “Why?”

  She glanced away and affected a light tone. “I asked Dr. Wickberg to check around to see if anyone would like to buy this place.”

  “I thought this was your home.”

  Dulcie thought for a moment. “When I got back to Locust, all I wanted to do was make a home for Madeline by myself. I’d had enough of men, after Jerry and Lamont.” She paused and tilted her head, staring into Rye’s dark blue eyes. “Then something happened. I met a man named Rye Forrester, and he showed me not all men were alike.” She swallowed hard. “He gave me a reason to believe in love again.”

  Rye’s expression softened. “Did he now?”

  She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “In fact, if he asked me to marry him, I’d say yes.”

  His eyes glimmered with moisture. “I love you, Dulcie McDaniel. Will you marry me?”

  Excitement trilled through her, but there was one other thing she wanted almost as much as becoming his wife. “I have one condition.”

  He frowned. “What is it?”

  “I’d like another child.”

  Rye grinned devilishly and cupped her buttocks. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  She laughed but didn’t let him distract her. “I mean as soon as we’re married. I want to adopt Collie.”

  Rye stared at her as if she’d just spoken some odd language. Finally, he answered with a husky voice, “I’d like that, too.”

  Tears blurred her vision, but happiness so powerful it ached filled her. Unable to speak, she answered him the only way she could, with a long, loving kiss.

  A month later fields of bare cotton stretched out in front of Rye, just as it had for most of the last week they’d been traveling. Like the other crops, the cotton, too, had been harvested.

  After Dulcie’s crops had been sold, it had taken only a week for the farm itself to be bought. Although Rye hadn’t wanted to use his new wife’s money, she insisted it was for all of them to make a new start. He felt a little less guilty, but vowed to pay her back someday.

  Madeline’s giggle in the back of the wagon caught his attention, and he glanced at Dulcie, who sat next to him on the seat.

  “Collie’s tickling her,” Dulcie said with a smile.

  Rye shook his head, grinning at his adopted son’s antics.

  Two months ago he’d ridden into Locust to pay a debt, and he left the town with a wife and two children who were his in all but blood. Despite the misfortunes that had led to this point, Rye had learned to forgive himself and had no regrets. Gazing into his wife’s bright green eyes, he knew she, too, felt the same way.

  Holding the mules’ reins in one hand, Rye took Dulcie’s hand in his other. “Having second thoughts?”

  She shook her head, and the sunlight spun her thick red gold hair into golden threads. “Not for a minute. You?”

  He grinned crookedly. “Only my stomach. I think a herd of buffalo are stomping around down there.”

  She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “If he’s your brother, he’s going to be just as excited to see you.”

  “I hope so.”

  Dulcie leaned against his side and kissed his cheek. “He’s not going to care about that scar either. He’ll love you because you’re family.”

  Rye wished he could be as certain, but was grateful for Dulcie’s support. If this Creede Forrester was his brother and he didn’t want anythin
g to do with a long-lost sibling, then Rye would find a new place to make a home with his family.

  My family.

  He didn’t realize how much he’d wanted to belong until he found Dulcie.

  They rounded a corner, and a well-kept cabin came into view. A man was outside by the corral, and by his side was a child, probably a couple years younger than Madeline. Rye knew he spotted their wagon when he turned to the cabin and called to somebody. A woman came out and stood close to the tall, powerfully built man who lifted his little girl in his arms.

  “That must be his wife,” Dulcie said.

  Unable to speak because of his dry mouth and thundering heart, Rye nodded.

  Collie and Madeline stood up behind the seat between Rye and Dulcie.

  “Is that your brother?” Collie asked.

  “We think so,” Dulcie replied for Rye, as if knowing he couldn’t speak.

  “He’s old.”

  Dulcie smiled. “He’s ten years older than Rye. That would make him forty.”

  Collie wrinkled his nose. “Old.”

  Rye steered the mules into the yard and halted the animals twenty feet from the family.

  “Howdy,” the man greeted. “Can we help you?”

  Rye glanced at Dulcie, who gave him an encouraging nod. He jumped down from the wagon and took a deep breath. “I hope so. I’m looking for Creede Forrester.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed warily. “You found him. Do I know you?”

  “Did you have two brothers named Rye and Slater?”

  Forrester’s suspicion was replaced by surprise and curiosity. “Yes. They were placed in an orphanage twenty-five years ago.” Sadness shadowed his features. “I haven’t seen them since.”

  Rye’s gut was coiled so tight he thought he’d be sick. “I’m your brother Rye.”

  Creede’s eyes widened, and he handed his daughter to his wife, whose rounded belly told Rye they were expecting another child. He approached Rye and stared into his eyes. Rye noticed they were the exact same shade of blue as his own. Creede then clasped Rye’s shoulders and pulled him close, hugging him. “My God, I can’t believe it. Little Rye. All grown up.”